


Up In Smoke

by JennLynn77



Series: Right As Rain [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past Drug Addiction, Sexual Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:02:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77





	Up In Smoke

**Up In Smoke**

**23** **rd** **, July 2030**

 

“If you put that in your mouth, I will slap it out so fast, you won’t know it until it hits the ground!”

 

They’re standing in a murder victim’s house. Lestrade is there with his team, watching this all unfold in front of them. Maybe the victim has some microwave popcorn lying about?

 

“I've already determined that the pack of cigarettes in question is not integral to the evidence in this case! I hardly think removing one cigarette from the pack is going to jeopardise this investigation.” A cigarette hung from Sherlock's lips as he fiddled with the victim’s lighter.

 

“That is so far removed from the point, you can’t even see the god damn point! There are so many miles separating you from the point, it looks like you’ve taken a cab and gone in the opposite direction for an hour!”

 

“I haven’t had a cigarette since in over fifteen years and you know it! I just had a sudden urge when I saw the pack lying there.”

 

John’s hands clenched and he took a lengthy, calming breath. “Is a cigarette the only thing you currently have an urge for?” John squinted, as if in pain, waiting for Sherlock’s answer.

 

“Why is your face doing that? Why are you so concerned that I wanted to have a cigare…” A realisation. “Oh. Oh no. John. Never again. That will never happen again.”

 

“You needing a cigarette used to be a sign that there was something else looming in the distance. A cigarette craving used to make me worry about an impending danger night.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’m fine, really. I just saw the pack there, and somehow, reflex memory kicked in. It was even my old brand. I just grabbed it and opened it like it was fifteen years ago and was going to pop one in my mouth. I wasn’t even thinking about it.”

 

“How often does something like this happen?”

 

“Honestly, I haven’t thought about a cigarette, or drugs for over ten years.”

 

“Ten years ago? What happened ten years ago that made you want one?”

 

“The night we spent apart before our wedding. Admittedly, I was a bit of a mess.”

 

“I can attest to that!!!” yelled Lestrade from the victim’s kitchen. Ignoring the interruption, they continued on.

 

“Why were you a mess?”

 

“I was afraid you’d think twice and not show up. In my own defense, I’d been at Molly’s the afternoon before our ceremony and she forced me to watch a pathetic romantic comedy film in which the antagonist left the protagonist waiting at the altar. Molly realised her mistake a bit too late. Unfortunately, the idea that you could possibly do that to me entered my brain and proceeded to try and rot the contents of my skull for the remainder of the afternoon and evening.”

 

‘You actually thought that could happen?”

 

“Anything  _ could _   happen.”

 

“Let me rephrase: you actually thought that  _ would _   happen?”

 

“I’d always been insecure of your feelings for me. Just because we wanted to get married didn’t mean that you’d follow through with it. People have done far less in the name of changing their mind.”

 

“Sherlock. What’s going on? Something must’ve happened recently to make this resurface. I’d like to talk about it, if you’d like.”

 

“I've been reflecting of late. We’ve been married for ten years. Rosie’s getting so grown up. We’re both getting older. Life seems to be barreling closer to the end of a few chapters in our lives.”

 

“We’re still going strong. Rosie’s only in Year 8. Things are great! Right?”

 

“I know that optimistic thinking isn’t my forte, but I’m trying to look ahead with positivity. But I’m not very good at that.”

 

“You’re not good at something? This is news to me.” A soft smile and a wink. Crisis averted. Sherlock frowned. Crisis not averted?

 

“What’s the matter, love? John rarely used a pet name for Sherlock when they were in public. Sherlock lifted his gaze to John’s. He looked a bit frightened

 

“I’ve never been one to plan things. Most of my life, I just let things come as they may. Make decisions in the moment. Since I met you, I’ve tried to let your influence guide me down a path of lists, and plans, and carefully thought through decisions.”

 

“Crazy, right? Not being impulsive and maybe dying unnecessarily.” There was no heat to John’s words.

 

“I’ve tried, and I hope, succeeded on that front. Our life runs as smoothly as our work lets us. Rosie being the type of child she is very helpful in that regard.” Sherlock sighed, then. He looked as though finding the right words to convey his apprehension was proving difficult.

 

“I’m trying to look down the road. To what things will be like when Rosie is off to university, should that be her chosen path. What our life will look like when we are unable to do this work. When one or both of us decide that we’re no longer physically able to do it to the level of which we are proud.”

 

“Sherlock, would it make you feel better if I told you that I've already started thinking about this?”

 

“Christ, yes!” Sherlock released a huge breath.

 

“I’m fifty-nine years old. You’re fifty-four, and Rosie’s thirteen. We have more time to fret about her! But us, I’ve given that quite a bit of thought. I was thinking, maybe six more years? I’ll be sixty-five then. I’ve never been the most mobile of the two of us, and I’d hate to think I’d slow you down. We’re not what we used to be, but neither is Lestrade. We’ll know when it’s time to hang up the crime-fighter capes.”

 

“How will we know?”

 

“Remember how we knew what we meant to each other the moment we laid eyes on each other twenty years ago?” Sherlock nodded with a grin.

 

“That’s how we’ll know. There’ll just be a spark of something. Fate or whatever you want to call it telling us it’s time for us to go and let those kids out there take over.” John tilted his head at the gaggle of detectives and uniforms following behind Lestrade.

 

“I knew it. I knew you’d fix this. As always. My conductor of light shines brightly once again!”

 

“And, once again, my posh boy basks in my brilliance!”

 

“John. Stop that.”

 

“Stop what? What does my posh boy want me to stop?” John’s nose had that adorable crinkle it gets when his face is arranged by hubris.

 

“That. Posh boy. You only call me that at home. When we’re, you know.”

 

“When we’re what, love? In flagrante delicto?” John’s tongue did that unconscious thing it did when he was picturing Sherlock naked.

 

“Yes. That.”

 

“Are you embarrassed, Sherlock?”

 

“I. I’m not sure.”

 

“Are you aroused, Sherlock?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“You think so? Let me check.” John’s eyes immediately went to Sherlock's groin. “Oh, sweetheart. I think you are.”

 

“John. Stop this behaviour immediately.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen.” John stepped closer. “Would you like me to take you home now, Sherlock? Rosie won’t be home from school for three hours. I could maybe detail my ideas on our retirement while I thrust you through our mattress.”

 

Sherlock gulped. Loudly.

 

“I think that’s a yes! He reached for Sherlock’s face and kissed him hard. He pulled back. “I’ve got you. I’ve got us. Whenever you’re doubting it, just remember those absolute facts! Don’t ever worry that you’re in this alone.”

 

In response, Sherlock threw his arms around John and pressed their lips together, in a decidedly unchaste manner.

 

“Could you two please not do that here? I’ve only got a few weeks left until retirement and I want to make it!” Lestrade yelled again, this time from the front stoop.

 

“SHUT UP, LESTRADE!” they both yelled as they made their way through the house and to the pavement, arms around each other’s backs.


End file.
